


Exhaustion

by twii2ted_8333335



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Caught, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twii2ted_8333335/pseuds/twii2ted_8333335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whoever was trying to call wasn't hanging up despite how long he'd ignored it so, grumpy and barely moving, he answered it. </p>
<p>"What." </p>
<p>"Ford? God, you sound awful."</p>
<p>"Stanley?" </p>
<p>"Seriously, you're not sick are ya?" </p>
<p>"No, no, just-just tired. Stanley, what — "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhaustion

**Author's Note:**

> This took so much longer to finish than I’d wanted  
> its in the same timeline as Reality and Fantasy but you don’t need to read those for this

Ford was honestly exhausted. He'd finally managed to get to a point in his studies where he felt comfortable resting for a day or two and Fiddleford was fine with leaving his companion alone for a few hours while he ran some errands. And of course, after only what felt like a few minutes of sleep, the phone went off. 

He only kept two phones in the house. One in the kitchen and one in his room. They missed a lot of calls, to the point of contemplating another phone for their work space but they bother agreed that would be a bad idea. It would get horribly lost, horribly fast. 

In Ford's opinion, they should get rid of all the phones at this point. 

Whoever was trying to call wasn't hanging up despite how long he'd ignored it so, grumpy and barely moving, he answered it. 

"What." 

"Ford? God, you sound awful."

Ford was not expecting to hear that voice. It brought a pang to his chest, a dryness to his mouth. A reminder that not everything was well in his life.

"Stanley?" 

"Seriously, you're not sick are ya?" 

"No, no, just-just tired. Stanley, what — " 

He didn't finish his statement before Stan spoke again, asking him how he'd been and what he'd been up to and ignoring or interrupting any questions about himself. At first, it irritated him and he gave stubbornly short answers, but Stan was showing a genuine interest in his research, in Fiddleford, in Gravity Falls, in _him_. He opened up to his brother and despite his exhaustion, he could feel the excitement bubbling in him. 

"Stanley," Ford finally tried again in his own twenty questions game, "why did you call me?" 

Silence. He almost thought the call disconnected or Stan hung up on him. Then there was a soft, almost shaky sigh, "I missed you." 

The words tugged at Ford's heartstrings. He bit his tongue; he wanted to say so much in return, wanted to apologize, wanted to say how much he'd missed his twin too, wanted to say so much and he said none of it. 

He did manage to whisper, "I don't want to get off." He wanted to listen to his brother talk or even just breathe over the phone. He wanted to fall asleep to it.

There was another beat of silence, and when Stan spoke again, Ford could _hear_ the grin in his voice. "Oh? Maybe I can convince you otherwise."

"Stanley, why would you want to convince me to get off?" 

Stan waited. And waited. And then — 

"....oh. You-you meant — "

"Uhhhh-huh." 

"H-ho-how does that even-even work over the phone?" Ford wished he had a shirt to take off, to relieve some of this heat from his body, but since he'd been planning on sleeping, he'd already taken it off. His pants were gone too, replaced with a pair of old shorts that were far too comfortable to not sleep in. 

Over the line, Stan chuckled, "I'll tell you. You alone right now?" 

Ford nodded, then swallowed, "Y-yes, but — " he froze as he realized that Fiddleford would only be gone for a while. That he could theoretically be back at any time. "I don't know what time Fiddleford left or how long I'd been asleep before you called. He could be back at any minute." His heart was pounding against his chest with nerves and fear and, much like when he was younger, excitement. He filed that under "things he didn't want to know he still enjoyed". 

"Easy there, Poindexter. Wouldn't want you to-to blow your load early," He tried to be mad but Stan's laughter was contagious and he found himself chuckling softly. He figured that closing the door to his room would at least be the decent thing to do, should Fiddleford come home before he was finished. Stan suggested putting a sock on the doorknob.

"Why?"

"It's the universal code for 'get lost, getting laid'."

Ford scoffed, "He's not going to know that." Still, he did it anyway on the off chance he would.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Nerds don't usually get laid." 

"Stanley!" 

"Alright, alright, calm down. You settled yet?" 

Ford evaluated himself. Laying on his back, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, shorts shucked off because they were tight enough without his erection straining against them — yes, he was fine with this as the starting point. "I am." 

"Whatcha wearing?" 

Ford's cheeks burned, and he silently cursed himself for being so embarrassed. "Nothing, anymore." 

His brother's laugh was sultry and low, and Ford found a shudder running up his spine as he listened. "Really? You eager for this, Sixer?" 

"I'll admit, I am... curious," This was a new scenario after all and he did want to experiment with it, see what Stanley could possibly do with just his voice. He shuddered again as his imagination went off kilter. 

There was a beat of silence, some shuffling as Ford assumed that Stan was accommodating for his over preparedness, and then he spoke, "Close your eyes, Stanford." 

Ford hummed softly, doing as he was told. He briefly wondered how angry his twin would be if he fell asleep in the middle of this, still running on barely any sleep at all. 

"God, I wish I could see you. I really miss you, you know. Miss the way your hand feels in mine. Miss the way your skin feels on my fingertips." Ford forced himself to exhale slowly, biting his lower lip to keep from speaking. Those were awfully sweet words for something that was supposed to be extremely naughty. They toed at the line of better days, before all the science fair mess.

Stan, oblivious to the inner turmoil of his brother, continued on, "Miss the way you blush when my hand goes over your neck, over your chest. Fingers brushing your nipples." 

The noise Ford made was embarrassing. The whole situation was embarrassing. He wasn't even being touched and he was half hard, the memory of Stan's hands apparently so fresh in his mind that he could react that strongly. Stan laughed breathily at him, "You touching yourself over there?" 

"Am I- supposed to?" 

"You don't have to. It would do wonders to my ego if you just came to the sound of my voice describing all the nasty things I'd do to you if I was there." More shivers ran across Ford's body, breath hitching just slightly.

"And what," he swallowed dryly, "what _would_ you do to me if you were here, Stanley?" 

Stan's voice was low and enticing as he spoke, and Ford could practically imagine the breath on his ear with his eyes closed like this. He tried to hold off as long as he could in touching himself but as his brother's imaginary self went lower and lower on his body, he found it harder and harder to resist that urge. His hands seemed to move on their own accord, drifting lower and lower, following Stanley's descriptive path. 

The moment his hand brushed his erection, he finally, finally allowed himself to relax and enjoy this time with his twin.

—— 

Fiddleford was home later than he'd wanted to be. Not by long, and he doubted Ford would've noticed if he didn't mention it, but he still felt it was long enough that he should let his partner know he was back. 

He wandered towards Ford's room, blinking in surprise when he found the door shut. The shock wore off when he figured he must have shut the door out of some paranoid habit. Carefully removing the sock from the knob, which he completely dismissed as another of Ford's odd habits considering the state of his entire house, he entered the room. 

Once he caught sight of Ford, he froze. He wasn't so shocked by the fact that he was naked; Fiddleford himself often slept without clothes on when he was in his own room. It was far more comfortable. He wasn't even all that shocked by the fact that he had four of his six fingers pistoning inside of him, his other six wrapped tightly around his leaking cock. He could rationalize that that was fairly normal too. With all the stress Ford had been putting on himself? He needed a little private time. 

What really got him was that he was on the phone and despite the gasps and groans escaping his companion's mouth, he could very clearly hear the other male's voice saying things that made Fiddleford's face flush and had his own libido stirring with interest. He never took Ford — or himself for that matter — as one to enjoy the more perverse sides of pleasure. 

And then Ford's eyes opened, likely wondering why light was spilling into his room, and his gaze caught Fiddleford's. He practically _howled_ as he orgasmed, face flushed bright red from arousal and embarrassment. Fiddleford's own face felt hot and he quickly slammed the door shut before anything else could happen. He fled to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door, intending to splash some water on his face and calm down. 

His crotch brushed against the sink's cabinets and he hissed slightly when he realized how painfully hard he'd gotten. With a sigh, he supposed he needed a shower anyway. He could kill two birds with one stone. 

—— 

"Damn," Stanley was laughing again, "You nearly blew my ear off with that one."

"Lee," Ford panted out, still trying to find words, trying to process what just happened. Besides having one of the best orgasms of his life. "Lee, I-I got caught." 

His brother made a choked sound, obviously not expecting it to actually happen despite Ford's warnings before they even started. 

There was a few moments of silence as Ford wound down, trying to find something to clean off his fingers and stomach. Eventually he settled for taking the bed sheets off his mattress and wiping up with those. He'd clean it later. When he remembered. 

"No wonder you were so loud. Tell Fidds I'm gonna need a hearing aid after that." 

"Don't over exaggerate. I was not _that_ loud." 

Stan chuckle at that, the sound tapering off into a pleasant hum. Ford felt even more drained than before but he still didn't want to hang up. Who knew when he'd be able to speak to his brother again? 

"Ford."

"No."

"I gotta go." 

"No," Ford insisted, almost whining. 

"Come on, Sixer. Don't make this harder than it already is. And believe me, over here, it's still pretty hard." Ford was almost certain Stan winked, or would have if he knew it would've been seen. 

"You didn't — ?"

"Nah. I'll have to wait til I get back to where I'm staying."

Ford's face heated up with secondhand embarrassment. "You're in public?!" 

"No! God, I'm not _that_ stupid. I'm just not at my place because the guy who owns it makes me pay for phone calls too. I'm at a friend's and I don't wanna jerk it in their bed. Maybe I'll use the shower."

Ford relaxed again at that. It was nice to know his brother was doing fairly well on his own. He hoped he'd hear from him more in the future. 

"Hey," Stan murmured, reminding his twin that he had to go, "it was nice talking to ya again."

"It was nice hearing from you too, Lee."

"Sleep well, bro." 

The call clicked as it ended. Ford sighed as he put the phone back on its receiver. He quietly pulled the covers over his head, wondering when it would be a good time to confront Fiddleford about all this. Maybe he wouldn't have to. 

As he drifted off to sleep, he could've sworn he felt the familiar weight of his brother's arm around his waist. 

—— 

Stan fell back on the bed he'd been sitting on when he finally hung up, draping an arm over his eyes. Yes, he was at a an acquaintance's place, if they were even that, but they still got charged for phone calls like he did. They were going to kill him. 

Unless he left. Again. 

He was supposed to be pet sitting some caged animals he was pretty sure got smuggled into this place but the night was half over. He could put a little extra food in their bowls and high tail it out of here. Maybe head up to Ford's place and — 

No. Tonight was a spur of the moment night full of luck. If Ford hadn't been as tired as he was none of that would've happened. He would've been yelled at and they would've fought, just like when he left. That's what he convinced himself of anyhow. 

He still had to leave though. 

Right after a shower.

**Author's Note:**

> I AM MCFREAKING PROUD OF THAT HEARING AID JOKE AND I AM UNASHAMED TO ADMIT THAT


End file.
